


Finding Him Quite the Reverse

by Ms_Pimprenelle



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Clever Mr Collins, F/M, poor Mr Collins is often mistreated by JAFF, probable out-of-character-ness, something had to be done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Pimprenelle/pseuds/Ms_Pimprenelle
Summary: Mr Collins is not who his letter shows he is. Why, then, did he write such a letter? How could that change the story?





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another three-chaptered story I wrote a while ago. My betas Lucy and Mary helped me to make it better, and I shamelessly pilfered some of JA's sentences, because her words are fun to play with. :-)

**Kent, mid-October**  
  
Michaelmas was just past, and William Collins was content. The tall and heavy-looking young man of five and twenty had taken orders the previous Easter and had soon afterwards found himself a situation. It had been, on the whole, relatively easy to attain. On hearing some of his fellow clergymen complain of the lady in whose power it was to grant the position, he had endeavoured to sketch her character and, after having ascertained that a dash of disguise and a lot of false praise would set him up forever, decided that he would put his scruples aside and apply for the fine living she was in the fortunate position to bestow.  
  
Her Ladyship had been taken in, and he was now, at five and twenty, the happy beneficiary of the living at Hunsford. His patroness had been a little miffed upon realising the servile clergyman she had approved of did not actually exist but, as she was too proud to admit she had been outwitted, she acted as though a vicar who wrote his own sermons and dared have a different opinion from hers was what she had wished for all along. Many of the parishioners were not fooled, but the situation suited them quite well, and if they smirked, it was only once she had turned her back.   
  
Still, Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s displeasure lingered, and she felt in need of a holiday from her clergyman. On remembering he was the heir of an estate whose current owner had five daughters of marriageable age, she suggested that he took a leave of two weeks in order to visit his cousin and consider marrying one of his daughters. Perhaps she hoped that, by gaining a wife, he would lose interest in his flock’s well-being. She could then once again be the only influence on them.   
  
If this were what she hoped, she would be disappointed. However, even a gentleman in possession of a modest income could be in want of a wife, and William was inclined to somewhat follow his patroness’s advice. Since he did not know what their accomplishments were, he was uncertain if one of his cousins would suit him; nevertheless, it would be a good thing to reconcile with his family.  
  
He had never met the Bennets and thus did not know what kind of gentleman his cousin was. His late father had described him as a cruel man unwilling to lower himself in any way, but the two men had had a falling out for reasons that were quite obscure to William and perhaps his father’s view could have been coloured by resentment. The fact that Old Mr Collins had been an illiterate and miserly sort of man could also have played a part here—he could simply have been jealous of Mr Bennet’s lot in life. Once again, William thanked Heavens for the education he had received.  
  
He had a precise idea of what he wished for in a wife: a lady who would be willing to care for the parishioners alongside him and who would be useful in the running of the house. Though he could afford to have servants, he hoped they could spare a housekeeper and a head cook. He did not expect his wife to spend her day in the kitchen; however, it would be best if she were able to have some notion of what happened there in order to oversee it. This economy would allow him to better provide for their children, for he could not rely only on his planned inheritance. After all, his cousin could still father a son and even if he did not, it would be irresponsible to sell parts of the estate to provide for dowries or inheritances for his daughters or younger sons.  
  
Still, he was curious to have a look at the property that, God willing, he would inherit someday. Moreover, two weeks away from Lady Catherine did hold some appeal; thus he decided to write his cousin a letter.  
  
As he put pen to paper, he hesitated. Should he be straightforward, or should he use disguise as he did to gain employment? If Mr Bennet were all his late father had said, it would be better to lower himself. However, if the man were a decent fellow, the idea of appearing a fool in his eyes did not sit well with William. In the end, though, that strategy prevailed, as well as the hope that, if his latter supposition were correct, his cousin would be enough amused by his letter to wish to meet him in person. Thus, he began.  
  
_Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent,_  
_15th October._  
  
_Dear sir,_  
_The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach ..._  
  
  
**Hertfordshire, one month later**  
  
When Collins arrived at Longbourn at the time he had announced, the whole Bennet family was gathered to receive him, and he was politely welcomed. His air was perhaps too grave and stately for the occasion and his manners very formal, but until he knew more about his family, he would hide behind them. Though his cousin said little, his daughters were more disposed to talk, and Collins was pleased to converse with them. It did not take him long after being seated to realise that the family could be divided into two groups—the mother and younger sisters in one, the father and elder daughters in the other. Of the middle daughter, he knew not what to think. For the time being, he decided to go on with his observation, complimenting his hostess now and then about her daughters and her taste. He thought he could detect some annoyance behind Mrs Bennet’s pride—was it that she suspected him of having ulterior motives, of making the inventory of what would possibly be his someday?  
  
His next offence, though, was pointed more directly. He found the dinner to be very good and had asked which of his cousins was to be thanked for the excellence of the meal. He was shortly answered by the vexed _mater familias_ that none of her daughters ever set foot in the kitchen, as they could afford a cook. He apologised but, though she softened, felt she remained displeased. Truth to be told, he could not be entirely pleased by this information. His eldest cousins were proper and charming young ladies, and he could have entertained the idea to court them, if not for the dawning suspicion that he would need to hire a cook, perhaps even a housekeeper, if he married one of them.   
  
Still, it would not hurt to be at least on friendly terms with them, and, anyway, he did not think he would have the heart to evict them completely from their home if they were still living there at the time of their father’s death. He was shaken from his thoughts by his cousin’s enquiries. Mr Bennet had kept silent at first; now that the servants had left the dining room, he asked him about Lady Catherine. Given that he had probably made more than one reference to her in the letter he had sent, he was not surprised by this enquiry and answered truthfully.  
  
“I have never in my life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank, such affability and condescension, as I have myself experienced from Lady Catherine. She has graciously and publicly approved of both the discourses which I had already had the pleasure of preaching before her.” He paused, remembering with a smile how the great Lady had contained her annoyance at hearing him contradict her.  
  
“She also asks me from time to time at Rosings to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine is reckoned proud by many people I know,” _myself included_ , “though she always endeavours to appear affable; indeed, she did not see any objection to my leaving the parish for a week or two to visit you.” _If anything, she must relish every moment of my absence._  
  
“She has even condescended to advise me to marry as soon as I could, provided I choose with discretion,” he continued, trying to control his urge to smirk. “She made a point to approve all the alterations I made in the parsonage and has even made some suggestions to that effect.” _Though there is no way I would add any shelves in the closets upstairs._  
  
“That is all very proper and civil,” said Mrs Bennet, “and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. It is a pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. Does she live near you, sir?”  
  
“The garden of the rectory and those of Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence, are only separated by a lane,” replied Collins who wished, not for the first time, that the parsonage were on the opposite side of the village. “The grounds are well-manicured, and I often walk them on Sundays.”  
  
“I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?”  
  
"She has one only daughter.”  
  
“Has she? Who stands to inherit the estate, then?”  
  
“Miss de Bourgh will, as well as other property.”  
  
“Ah!” cried Mrs Bennet, shaking her head, “then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? Is she handsome?”  
  
He could not disparage Miss de Bourgh, yet he would not lie; after a pause he decided to let another speak for him, hoping it would amuse his cousins.   
  
“Lady Catherine says that, in point of true beauty, Miss De Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex; because there is that in her features which marks the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her from being much accomplished. Her former governess, who is now her companion, has informed me that she could not have failed to be proficient in anything she would have deigned to learn. Miss de Bourgh is as amiable as her mother, if not more. She often drives by the parsonage in her phaeton and never fails to greet me.”  
  
“Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”  
  
“She has not. The air of the city does not agree with her health, which, as I told Lady Catherine one day, has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. I am happy to offer now and then those little compliments that are always acceptable to ladies. They never fail to move her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay.” Collins smiled broadly. Lady Catherine knew very well that his compliments were only meant to tease her, and her suppressed fury in these occasions was entertaining in the extreme.  
  
“It is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy,” said Mr Bennet. “May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment or are the result of previous study?”  
  
“They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time and, though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.”  
  
Mr Collins could see that, though his cousin maintained the most resolute composure of countenance, he was listening to him with keen enjoyment, occasionally sharing an amused glance with his second eldest. What William could not discern was whether he laughed at him or with him.  
  
By tea-time he had his answer, for Mr Bennet was glad to take him into the drawing room again and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Given the annoyed looks his host threw him, William Collins had no doubt he had not been seen through yet and could only blame himself—and his silence—for it. Deciding that his cousin’s enlightenment would wait, Collins readily assented to his request, and a book was produced. Everything announced it to be from a circulating library and, after remarking that it had been a long time since he had last opened a novel, he began to read. He had an agreeable voice, the story was entertaining, and his audience seemed pleased. Only the middle girl—Mary, he remembered—appeared to regret his choice and was looking longingly at a book of sermons which rested on a nearby table. _Goodness! Does she believe that, as a clergyman, I ought to read only religious or moralistic texts?_ He hid a smile and went on with his reading. The family listened to him attentively, even the youngest two who had not stopped whispering and giggling together at dinner. After a while, though, he heard the youngest—Lydia, that was it—loudly whisper to her sister that, for a clergyman, he was not too stuffy and that it really was a shame that he had not chosen the Army as his profession. She then turned towards her mother.  
  
“I so love a man in a red coat! I shall walk to Meryton tomorrow to ask when Mr Denny comes back from town.”  
  
Her sisters tried to hush her, but Collins merely laid aside his book.  
  
“I take it that you have had enough of reading for tonight, and I am afraid my throat is becoming parched. Perhaps it is better to leave the other chapters for another time.”  
  
Then, turning to Mr Bennet, he enquired whether it would be agreeable to him to play cards or some other game. Mr Bennet offered to play backgammon, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's interruption and promised that it should not occur again if he would resume his book. Mr Collins reaffirmed his desire to rest his voice but remarked that a game that would allow for the participation of all would be preferable, and soon afterwards he was seated at another table with Mr Bennet and his three eldest daughters for a game of spillikins.  
  
**Longbourn, the following morning**  
  
Collins woke up feeling refreshed from his travels. He had slept admirably well—Mrs Bennet may not like him because of who he was, but she had her pride and would not give anyone any reason to believe that her hostessing skills were poor. He thought of his plan to determine if he could find a bride amongst his cousins and wondered again whether it was such a good idea. He decided to reconsider the idea later in his stay, after all he had met the ladies only the day before. However, a quarter-hour's _tête-à-tête_ with Mrs Bennet before breakfast made him reconsider once again. As he was telling her of his parsonage-house, he had let slip that he had hoped to find a bride in Hertfordshire. This produced from her, amid very complaisant smiles and general encouragement, a caution against her eldest daughter, who was likely to be very soon engaged.  
  
He answered as vaguely as he could, and she seemed to think that he would be interested in pursuing one of her other daughters, which put him high in her good graces. She hinted that Elizabeth, next to Jane in birth, might be an agreeable partner.  
  
Cousin Elizabeth seemed to be a witty, clever, yet proper young lady; he would be happy to further his acquaintance with her—and he thanked Heavens that Mrs Bennet did not suggest he spent more time with her favourite daughter, for he would have had a hard time not rolling his eyes. He had clearly identified Cousin Lydia in that position and did not think he could speak to the girl more than five minutes before wanting to strangle her, hit her on the head, or send her to the nursery—or all of that together. These kinds of actions would certainly not do for a man of the Church.  
  
Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten, and his cousins—four of them, anyway, for Mary had determined to stay home and practise her skills at the pianoforte—had planned to visit their aunt in the neighbouring town. He was to attend them, at the request of Mr Bennet. They had been together in the library after breakfast, and his cousin seemed at first alarmed on seeing his sanctuary thus invaded but quietened on seeing that Collins merely settled with a book without disturbing the leisure and tranquillity that were always to be found in that room. After a couple of minutes, he had commented.  
  
“You are different from what I expected given your letter’s content.”  
  
“And you are very different from what I would have expected had I relied only on my father’s description.”  
  
At this Mr Bennet had scowled, and William had smiled. “I gather that the dislike was mutual. Still, sir, I hope you will not bear me any ill will for not having been straightforward with you. My only excuse is that I was unsure of the reception I could expect, and—”  
  
“Yes, yes. Well, there is no harm done,” his cousin had cut off, visibly eager to return to his own book. “Still, I wonder how much time my girls will need to realise that you are far from the fool your letter implied you were. I should hope that Elizabeth would be the first to discern this, for she has a little more quickness than her sisters, but I fear she is not known to reassert her first impressions. My Jane, set as she is to see only the good in people, is more likely to be the first to do you justice.   
  
On hearing some noise in the hall, he had asked Collins to go with his daughters and the latter, as much a walker as a reader, had readily agreed. Mr Bennet waved him off, reminding him to tell him which of his daughters would see through him first, and down the path the cousins went.   
  
**Meryton, less than half an hour later**  
  
Their time passed in civil conversation until they entered the market town. Upon reaching their destination, the younger girls immediately wandered up the street, their attention split between their quest of the officers and their admiration of new items in the shop windows.  
  
They soon all but ran to a young man in uniform walking with a gentleman. The rest of the group caught up with them, and all the appropriate introductions were made. The officer was the Mr Denny of whom Lydia had wondered about during the former evening, with him was his friend Mr Wickham whom he had met in London. That gentleman had a fine countenance and very pleasing address, but William noticed that his young cousins were not fully interested in their new acquaintance until he declared that he had just taken a commission in the local regiment of the Militia. To his consternation, William also discerned that his cousin Elizabeth seemed no less interested in the newcomer than her younger sisters and only expressed herself in a more restrained fashion. He had thought she would be less superficial than that. Only cousin Jane seemed unaffected by the officers, though she was all amiability with them.  
  
Then something strange happened. Miss Bennet had thrown a glance at the main street’s end and blushed. Glancing himself, William saw two riders approach and surmised one of them must be the oft-mentioned Mr Bingley. When the gentlemen saw the ladies, they neared their group and began to speak with them—or rather Mr Bingley, for it was only he that spoke, enquiring after Cousin Jane’s health, explaining he and the other gentleman had been on their way to Longbourn. His friend, whose name he did not hear, confirmed it with a bow but froze when his eyes met Mr Wickham’s. Both gentlemen changed colour, one reddened, the other paled. Mr Wickham, after a pause, touched his hat, the newcomer barely nodded in reply. After a minute or so, Mr Bingley took leave, and he and his friend rode on. Most of the company did not seem to have noticed that first exchange, though the pensive look on Cousin Elizabeth’s face made him think that _she_ had at least. Mr Denny and Mr Wickham then walked with the cousins to Mrs Philips’s house, where they parted company. Along the way, Collins overheard that the gentleman who acted so peculiarly on the street was a Mr Darcy.  
  
William was introduced to Mrs Philips, who invited her nieces and him to a card party the next evening where the officers of the ——shire would be present. On her nieces' entreating, she promised she would have her husband make sure that Mr Wickham would be present at the gathering. Mrs Philips reminded him much of her sister, and William would have preferred staying at Longbourn and discussing with his cousin Bennet to spending an evening with her, but he saw no polite way to extricate himself and accepted the invitation as graciously as he could. Perhaps, he reasoned, this would be the occasion to learn more about the curious interaction between Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.   
  
His first thought was to ask Cousin Elizabeth for her opinion, but she had attached herself to Cousin Jane’s arm, and both ladies were already on their way. Resigned, he offered Cousin Kitty one arm, Cousin Lydia the other, and listened to their praise of Mr Wickham, in comparison to whom every other officer was deemed a “stupid, disagreeable fellow,” while his cousins Jane and Elizabeth conversed together ten paces in front of them, not near enough for him to listen to their conversation.  
  
When they arrived at Longbourn and recounted what had occupied their time, Mrs Bennet asked William how he had found her sister; he highly gratified her by praising Mrs Philips's manners and politeness. In truth, though both ladies were quite vulgar, he had been moved by their attentions. As uncouth as they were, they were sincere, and he could not recall having been welcomed with so much attention and sincerity as he had received in Hertfordshire.  
  
**The Philips's home, the evening after**  
  
Mr Bennet, on hearing about the invitation, had made no objection to his daughters’ engagement with their aunt. Mr Collins had been conveyed with them to Meryton and listened with annoyance to his cousins’ speculations about Mr Wickham’s presence that evening, while he still wondered about the strange reaction the officer of the ——shire had displayed the day before. His cousins’ curiosity was answered as soon as they set foot in the drawing room for their aunt told them the gentleman had accepted the invitation and was now in their uncle’s study. Cousin Lydia and Cousin Kitty all but squealed in delight; Cousin Elizabeth’s reaction, though also pleased, was more dignified. Cousin Mary seemed curious about the man who had her younger sisters in rapture, and Cousin Jane threw a glance to her next eldest sister.  
  
They were soon all seated and, as his cousins were discussing with their aunt, Mr Collins found himself at leisure to look around him. He was struck by the size and furniture of the apartment and, when asked by his hostess about his thoughts, he declared without thinking that he might almost have supposed himself in one of Rosing’s parlours. Mrs Philips inquired about what Rosings was, and who its proprietor was. Once he had answered, she declared herself flattered by the comparison—which greatly relieved Collins for, given her Ladyship’s taste, it had not been meant as a compliment.  
  
He was then asked to speak more about his patroness, her mansion, and his own residence, and did so until the other gentlemen joined them. Mrs Philips listened to him attentively, redirecting him on that subject when he tried to move the conversation to a more palatable subject, and he soon resigned himself to answer her questions about Rosings and its dwellers as well as he could. His hostess expressed no little interest in Lady Catherine, but he could not tell if it was for her sake or his. His cousins appeared bored. He could not blame them for that and regretted that his earlier slip seemed to have curtailed all intelligent discourse for a time.  
  
At last the gentlemen entered the room, and Collins could as well have become invisible. The officers were all handsome men with agreeable manners; his cousins’ attention focused on the newest amongst them, Mr Wickham, who outshone his fellows.   
  
William observed with no little interest that Mr Wickham was quick to attach himself to his cousin Elizabeth and hoped he would have the occasion to either discuss their conversation with her or overhear them. For now he kept Mrs Philips company, listening to what she had to share of the local gossip. She was easy to please—some compliment here and there was enough to make her happy.  
  
When the card tables were placed, he was asked by Mrs Philips to partner her husband at whist. He quite liked the game and had played it often while he was at university, but he regretted that he could not join the other table where Cousin Elizabeth sat, still at Mr Wickham’s side. Cousin Lydia was on the man’s other side, and he hoped, without believing in it too much, that his youngest cousin would have some additional information to share at the end of the evening. He tried to listen to them but could only hear some exclamations; it led him to be mostly inattentive to his own game. He did apologise several times but felt confident Mr Phillips had got the impression that he was a very poor card player. How vexing!   
  
He thought he had heard his cousin mention Mr Darcy. When the whist party was over and they joined the lottery table, he endeavoured to find himself near Cousin Elizabeth in the hopes of overhearing what Wickham told her. He could not sit between them, for that would defeat his purpose, and chose to take a seat at her other side. Alas, the conversation the young lady had with her other neighbour seemed to be at an end. He then had to answer Mrs Philips’s enquiries about his success at cards. When he told her that he had lost every point—it was not accurate, but it was certainly how he felt—his hostess expressed some concern, but he waved it away and said that his pride would recover when he would next play with Lady Catherine.  
  
This must have spurred a low-voice enquiry from Mr Wickham, for he heard Cousin Elizabeth speak to that gentleman. Collins endeavoured to listen to her and, on hearing his name, focused his gaze on the card table and his ears on his neighbours.  
  
“... he certainly has not known her long.”  
  
“You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr Darcy.”  
  
“No, indeed, I did not. I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connexions. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.”  
  
“Her daughter, Miss de Bourgh, will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates.”  
  
This was welcome information for Collins who did not know of that relationship. Lady Catherine spoke about her nephews with fondness but had not called any of them by name. The villagers mentioned some of them and, as he had other things to worry about, he had not endeavoured to discover who the rest of them were. He wondered if Mr Wickham’s statement about that hoped-for alliance was accurate. If it was, neither she nor her daughter was open about it.  
  
He _must_ find a way to learn about this conversation and about the local gossip regarding Mr Darcy. Learning facts about that gentleman, or at least things that were not biased in favour of the man, could be of use to him some day. The more he knew about Rosings, the better. Cousin Elizabeth was now explaining to Mr Wickham how she had understood, given Collins’s apparent praise of Lady Catherine, that she was rather arrogant. She seemingly had not realised yet that her cousin was aware of the fact. The Militia officer supported her in her opinions, adding a cutting remark towards Mr Darcy; they continued talking together, obviously pleased with each other, until they were called for supper. Mr Wickham then gave his other cousins their share of attention. Cousin Elizabeth could not speak with him again, but it was clear, from the way she was looking at him, that she overflowed with admiration for the man.  
  
The ride back would not provide him with any occasion to hear more about Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham, for Cousin Lydia monopolised the conversation with the enthusiastic retelling of her lottery tickets, of the fish she had won or lost. To remember the game so, she must have concentrated only on it and must not have heard anything of the conversation her sister had with her neighbour. His displeasure must have shown, for Cousin Mary then asked him, in a worried voice, how he had enjoyed his evening. He answered with a few banalities about how well he had been received. When they arrived at Longbourn, Cousin Elizabeth was not long before taking her leave, followed by Cousin Jane soon afterwards. His enquiries would have to wait.   
  
**Longbourn, Thursday morning**  
  
Mr Collins was in the drawing room when Mr Bingley and his sisters came to offer their personal invitation for a ball that was to be held at Netherfield the following Tuesday. His two eldest cousins, who had been walking in the gardens, entered soon after their guests' arrival and the two visiting ladies appeared delighted to see Cousin Jane again, calling her their dear friend and exclaiming over the length of their separation. If Collins did not know they had seen each other the previous Sunday, he would have thought they had not been in her company for at least a couple of months. They paid little attention to the rest of those present, only speaking to Mrs Bennet and Cousin Elizabeth when they could not do otherwise. They went on their way soon afterwards, which amused William to no end after having heard their heartfelt declaration of desolation about their friend’s absence. This, however, seemed to disappoint Mr Bingley, who had seated himself near Cousin Jane and appeared to have more to say to her.  
  
Only Mr Bennet seemed to be indifferent at the prospect of the ball. Mrs Bennet declared it must be a compliment to Cousin Jane and observed that Mr Bingley coming to visit them instead of sending them a card was highly flattering. Cousin Jane smiled more than was her wont, Cousin Elizabeth had the same dreamy look she had when looking at Mr Wickham the previous evening. As for Cousin Kitty—he could not bring himself to think of her as Catherine—and cousin Lydia, they were delighted at the thought of a night of dancing. Cousin Mary assured, in a most serious voice, that she looked forward to attending the event, declaring it to be “no sacrifice”.  
  
He was then asked whether he intended to accept Mr Bingley’s invitation and surprised his relatives by answering that he was glad to do so and even intended to dance.  
  
“I do not see how such an amusement could be considered evil, and I hope that I shall have the occasion to dance with each of my fair cousins in the course of the evening. May I take this opportunity of soliciting you, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances? I trust my cousin Jane will attribute this preference to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”  
  
If he were not mistaken, Cousin Jane would, by far, prefer to dance those with Mr Bingley and, if the gentleman’s attentions were any indication, only his sisters’ hasty departure had prevented him from asking for them already.  
  
Cousin Elizabeth seemed dismayed by his offer. She must have wished to dance the first with Mr Wickham but managed to accept his proposal with as much grace as she could. Her displeasure hinted at more than a delayed dance, though, and it struck Collins that she may have constructed his preference as something more—as the indication that he had selected her as a possible bride. Collins nearly groaned, but there was no help for it. At least she did not seem interested in the match as much as her mother was.  
  
Later that day, he found his eldest cousin alone with her embroidery in the drawing room. He enquired about her sisters and was told that the youngest two were visiting a friend, Cousin Mary was reading, and Cousin Elizabeth walking. Having observed that his two eldest cousins seemed close, William decided that it was possible that Cousin Elizabeth had shared with Cousin Jane the contents of her conversation with Mr Wickham. Still intending to find out more about this in case it could be of use, he suggested that they take a walk in the gardens to enjoy the fresh air. His cousin agreed to it, and they were out of doors soon afterwards.   
  
Collins lost no time in asking her about Mr Wickham and was soon told all Cousin Jane knew about him, which was more than he had expected. Cousin Elizabeth had told her everything she had heard in detail. Mr Wickham had said he had been denied an inheritance by Mr Darcy, whose father wished to give the now officer a living, out of jealousy. Repeating the story obviously upset Cousin Jane and, when asking for the cause of her distress, Collins was answered that she trusted Mr Wickham’s tale of woe must be nothing else other than a misunderstanding, for if it were not, Mr Bingley would certainly suffer.  
  
William didn’t exactly understand the correlation between Mr Wickham’s complaints and Mr Bingley’s feelings, but the former’s tale did not ring true, and he determined to address Cousin Elizabeth on the subject directly.   
  
That young lady, having returned from her walk, joined them at that moment and seemed taken aback by the sombre mood that had settled between her cousin and her sister. Deciding to take advantage of their privacy, William addressed her.   
  
“Good morning, Cousin Elizabeth. Cousin Jane has just related to me the conversation you had yesterday evening with Mr Wickham and it did not sit well with me.”  
  
“Am I not allowed to converse with officers?” Her frown had morphed into a scowl.  
  
“You wilfully misunderstand me.” At this, she started. “There was nothing improper in what you have done. However, I can not help but suspect your partner’s motives and integrity.”  
  
“How so?” Cousin Elizabeth had crossed her arms and glared at him.  
  
“Put aside your feelings towards each gentleman and look only at the facts. Here is a young man of six, perhaps seven and twenty who _claims_ he was denied a living by someone who should have helped him in his career. Yet, he has not taken orders at all. Why should he have received one?”  
  
“What was the point in doing so when his future just had been denied?”  
  
William shook his head.   
  
“Now, look at me, Cousin. I am far less handsome and charming than your Mr Wickham, yet I managed, without help of any kind, to gain a living shortly after I had been ordained. I know I have been lucky for many of my fellows are still curates. However, each of them can hope for a similar position as mine some day and, meanwhile, live an agreeable life—providing they enjoy making sermons, caring for their flock, and living a life devoid of much extravagance. So why did that young man not go that way?”  
  
“Mr Darcy would have destroyed his reputation out of pettiness, making it impossible for him to gain any kind of position.”  
  
“Do you truly believe this? I never have heard any of my parishioners criticise him.”  
  
“That does not mean anything! Either he does not visit often, or they would not dare to speak badly of Her Ladyship’s nephew,” huffed Cousin Elizabeth.   
  
Collins rolled his eyes. “Perhaps, or perhaps there is nothing to say about him. I do not know how many nephews Lady Catherine has, but my flock is not one to withhold complaints when it comes to Rosings, its dwellers, and their relations. Mr Darcy, unlike others, was never mentioned to me. Now, has Mr Darcy said anything against Mr Wickham since they met yesterday?”  
  
“Not that I know of,” she conceded, “but it may still happen! You are taking Mr Darcy’s part, either out of loyalty for Lady Catherine or because you fear that, by displeasing her family, you will endanger your income.”  
  
At this, Collins could not help but laugh. When he could master himself, he explained himself to his stunned cousins.   
  
“Lady Catherine is, I fear, already rather displeased with me. She was under the impression, when she gave me the living, that I would be eager to cater to her and let her dictate my life and my sermons. This is definitely not the case, and there is _nothing_ she can do about this. If I offended her nephew, it would be one more offence she could lay at my door, but it would not be enough to threaten me in any way. Now, back to Mr Wickham, if you please. If he has been so wronged, why did he not complain?”  
  
“He said there was a subtlety in the will such that he could not win in court; moreover, he told me he felt he could not publicly criticise Mr Darcy because he owed much to his father,” protested a still heated Elizabeth.  
  
“And yet he shared with you, whom he had just met, his complaints about the man. Do you not see how inconsistent this is?”  
  
“He trusted I would keep his confidence!”  
  
“How would he know that? My younger cousins, the day they met, did not hide the fact that they were eager to gossip, and he had no reason to believe you would be different. Cousin Lydia was seated at his side during the card party. He had no way to be certain that she would be so concentrated on her tickets that she would not overhear him.”  
  
Cousin Elizabeth did not answer, and William hoped that he had given her enough food for thought. As the weather turned to rain, they went back to the house, and he added, just as they came to the door:  
  
“I know Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She _is_ proud and arrogant, yet she would not lower herself to ruin someone only because she dislikes him or her. As I told you before, I am well placed to tell you such a thing. I very much doubt her nephew would be that different in his dealings with others—as his reaction on Tuesday proves. If he wished to hinder the man that much, it would have been easy for him, with his connexions, to just drop a word into Colonel Forster’s ear, and Mr Wickham would never have been able to keep his position in the militia. This is not what Mr Darcy did—he merely ignored the man. Mayhap there is, as Cousin Jane believes, a misunderstanding. However, in any case, Mr Wickham is not to be wholly trusted.”  
  
Having said his piece, he went inside, followed by a chagrined Elizabeth. She could not delude herself and dismiss his analysis. The possibility of Wickham’s unworthiness might have hurt her more if her cousin was not proving to be more interesting than she had first thought. The militia officer had more charm, but the clergyman had more substance; she began to feel gratified by his distinguishing her amongst her sisters. When her mother, not long afterwards, gave her to understand that she would be pleased if Mr Collins made her an offer of marriage, Elizabeth found herself privately agreeing with her. Of course, she had not known Mr Collins one week, and he might well never ask for her hand, but there was no harm in searching to know her cousin better. If anything, it would put her in her mother’s good graces and, who knows, she might become distracted enough to not embarrass her daughters at the ball with mentions of her hopes for Jane and Bingley.  
  
The rain was not long before falling, and the bad weather held until the day of the ball, preventing the young people from going out. Collins did not mind spending some time in Longbourn’s library, but his cousins Kitty and Lydia bemoaned their circumstances loudly, and even their elder sisters seemed downcast. He thought to mention that he had been a long time without dancing. Cousin Jane suggested that they could surely practise, at which Cousin Lydia clapped her hands and had the music room cleared away. Cousins Elizabeth and Mary took turns at the pianoforte while he was taught the dances that were likely to be played. William felt clumsy at first but proved to be an apt student, and the afternoons that led up to the Tuesday of the ball were spent most agreeably with music and laughs. Mary was the only one who objected to such frivolity, but the occasion to practise her music and get praise from her sisters was enough to appease her misgivings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Netherfield, Tuesday evening**  
  
When Collins entered the drawing room with his cousins, Mr Wickham was nowhere to be seen. Mr Denny was here, however, and, as Kitty and Lydia Bennet were determined to dance with his friend, they applied to him about Mr Wickham’s whereabouts. Mr Denny answered that the gentleman had left for town the day before, as he had a matter of business which could not have been delayed and had not yet returned. He added, looking at Elizabeth with a smile:  
  
“I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here.”  
  
It was not lost on Collins that Mr Wickham had done precisely what he had said he would not. Cousin Elizabeth frowned, so he hoped she had also realised the contradiction. Mr Darcy approached her then, and it seemed to Collins that she remained displeased with him. The clergyman joined his cousins and was formally introduced to Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. After they had exchanged some civilities, Mr Bingley left them to attend his other guests, which resulted in Cousin Jane’s smile faltering for a moment. Mr Darcy, looking at Cousin Elizabeth, seemed to hesitate over something but, at that moment, she caught sight of someone and excused herself from the group.  
  
She went to speak with a plain looking lady, of an age with himself, who greeted her with pleasure. Their friendship appeared far more sincere than the one Miss Bingley had professed towards Cousin Jane some days earlier. When he went to claim Cousin Elizabeth for their dances, he was introduced to the lady, a Miss Lucas, whom he had heard Mrs Bennet speak of in rather derogatory terms. He acquitted himself reasonably well during his dance with his cousin, aware that he was not the most graceful or dignified of dancers but still avoiding to distress his partner with wrong moves. As a result, he wasn’t very talkative, and Cousin Elizabeth teased him for his solemnity, but he would rather be focused on the dances instead of apologising for bringing mortification to her.  
  
He danced next with Cousin Jane, and when the set was over, he returned her to her mother and searched for Miss Lucas. His other cousins were all engaged for the next and, as he wished to dance, he planned to ask her. Cousin Elizabeth, after having danced with an officer, had come back to her friend as he arrived. The three of them were in conversation when Mr Darcy, appearing seemingly out of nowhere—William had been paying more attention to Miss Lucas than to their immediate surroundings—applied for Cousin Elizabeth’s hand. She accepted him, and he walked away while she huffed in frustration.   
  
“I dare say you will find him very agreeable,” Miss Lucas ventured in a soothing voice.  
  
“Heaven forbid! _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil.”  
  
“Surely you cannot mean that, Cousin. What has the man ever done to you? And do not speak about Mr Wickham. That gentleman’s self-exclusion from this event, when he had previously told you that he would not shy away from Mr Darcy, does not speak well of his character.”  
  
“Eliza resents the fact that Mr Darcy did not find her pretty enough to dance with when they first met.”  
  
“Charlotte!”  
  
“You know it to be true,” Miss Lucas chided her. “He injured your vanity and, since then, you have been looking for more substantial reasons to dislike him. In any case, he seems to have changed his mind.”  
  
“ _This_ is why you lent credit to such a flimsy tale? I am disappointed, Cousin. I had thought you to be more discerning. Your father did laud your wit—but he also noted that you disliked reassessing your impressions, and you proved him correct. This is something one would expect from a child, not from a young lady.”  
  
Elizabeth had scowled at him and was still sulking when the dancing recommenced. It was more directed at her friend and cousin for having pointed out that she was at least as vain as she had accused Mr Darcy of being than at the gentleman himself; because of their reproach, she had resolved to be more pleasant towards him than she had been until the present. When her partner came to claim her, Mr Collins and Miss Lucas followed them, and the four young people took their place in the set.  
  
Collins found in Miss Lucas an agreeable partner. They talked at first about Cousin Elizabeth and her stubbornness when it came to challenging her opinions, and soon drifted to other subjects; they discovered they had much in common. As he ventured a glance to his left, William determined that his cousin was not as happy with her partner as he was with his. They seemed not to speak much, though civilly enough when they did. It was not lost on Collins that Mr Darcy smiled at Cousin Elizabeth quite often, and he resolved to observe him in order to determine whether this was his usual way or if he had a special interest in his cousin.  
  
At this point of the dance, he and Miss Lucas were near enough to the couple to overhear their conversation and, after he shared a glance with his partner, they listened to them.   
  
“When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance,” said Cousin Elizabeth with an edge in her voice.  
  
Mr Darcy did not answer at first and, throwing a look at him, William saw his face shut down. At length, he spoke in a clipped manner.  
  
“Mr Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his _making_ friends—whether he may be equally capable of _retaining_ them is less certain.”  
  
“He has been so unlucky as to lose _your_ friendship,” replied his cousin with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”  
  
Looking at Miss Lucas, Collins could see she was not pleased with her friend, and before Darcy could answer, Sir William Lucas passed by them while crossing the room. On seeing Mr Darcy, he stopped, bowed to him, and complimented him at length on his dancing and his partner, throwing an allusion to the expectation of a match between Cousin Jane and Mr Bingley in the midst of it.  
  
On hearing this, Darcy looked with some concern at Mr Bingley and Cousin Jane, who were dancing together. When Sir William had left, he turned to his partner.  
  
“Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.”  
  
“I do not think we were speaking at all—”  
  
“Truly, Cousin?” Collins snapped. “I believe you were demonstrating your failure to sketch a character properly as well as your implacable resentment.”  
  
At this, both his cousin and her partner stared at him while Miss Lucas nodded.  
  
“You are too stubborn for your own good, Eliza. Why can you not admit that your judgement is not infallible?”  
  
“That, my dear Miss Lucas, is because of her pride,” Collins spat. “My cousin is so proud of her intellect that she cannot imagine it can be faulty and has therefore dispensed herself of being cautious when assessing a character.”  
  
“Now, Mr Collins—”  
  
“I can name three gentlemen you grossly misjudged only this past week. Can you deny it?”  
  
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond exp ****ression. She stared, coloured, doubted, but remained silent.  
  
“Who is the third?” Miss Lucas asked cautiously when it was clear that the others were still too shocked by Collins's outburst to speak.  
  
“That would be my cousin,” said Cousin Elizabeth, finding her voice at last while avoiding their gazes.  
  
A shuffle recalled them to their surroundings, and they resumed their place in the dance. Cousin Elizabeth and Mr Darcy had a definitely sheepish air around them. Collins had to refrain from laughing, and he was confident he heard a giggle coming from the vicinity of Miss Lucas.  
  
Mr Darcy seemed to have forgotten all about his friend and Cousin Jane, looking instead at William now and then with unrestrained wonder. Collins could not resist teasing him when the dance made them pass each other.  
  
“Not quite the type of clergyman you’d imagine Her Ladyship would hire,” he said, winking at him, which nearly made the sedate gentleman miss a step.  
  
When the dances were over, the four young people stayed together to converse more calmly. Collins had thought that Mr Darcy would excuse himself and flee to the other side of the ballroom as fast as he could politely do so. However, he did not, and they looked at each other in silence. It was first broken by the eldest gentleman.  
  
“If you do not mind,” Mr Darcy said cautiously, “would you share with us how you came to obtain your position at Hunsford?”  
  
“ _You_ want to hear it, and I have no objection to telling you. The short answer is that I shamelessly flattered her. Are you interested in the long one?”  
  
Mr Darcy’s lips twitched, and he nodded.  
  
“It is quite simple: I had heard about the living from some school fellows. The position was deemed very fine, save for an unfortunate circumstance: the character of the Lady in whose power it was to bestow it. A couple of acquaintances had solicited an interview with her, but Lady Catherine ultimately had not hired them. One of them was rejected without having even met her, the ideas he shared in the letter he sent her having not, evidently, met with her approval. Those who had met her described her as a—but perhaps I should not say it—” Collins interrupted himself with a frown.  
  
“Do not censure yourself on my account,” Darcy interjected.   
  
“—a tyrannical old biddy, I’m afraid. One who, before we were better acquainted, expected nothing but servility from her clergyman and expected to approve of all the speeches he would make. They were put off by her demands, and she by their unwillingness to do her will rather than that of the Lord. I enquired a little more about both Hunsford and Rosings, determined that I could be comfortable there, and, once she granted me an interview, said exactly what I knew she wanted to hear and acted as I knew she would like.” Collins paused in his speech and, looking at his cousin, added, “I certainly crafted every flattering compliment I could think about in anticipation of that meeting and, as you can see, it served me well.”  
  
Darcy nodded again, and his smile was less fleeting. “I gather that my aunt was deeply unhappy. I wonder that she did not make her disappointment known.”  
  
At this, Collins smirked. “Come now, sir. Your aunt is an extremely proud woman. Do you really think she would own to having made a mistake?”  
  
Darcy smirked back, and Elizabeth, who had begun to forget the set down her cousin had given her, promptly looked at her hem again. On noticing that, Collins addressed her gently.   
  
“Now, Cousin, I trust you are still too young to be as set in your ways as Her Ladyship is. There is yet hope for you.”  
  
Elizabeth looked at him doubtfully as he continued. “You must learn not to rely on your first impressions only, as the past week has proved to you. I dare say you now understand this. And do not pout like that—it is an exp ****ression I should more easily imagine on my youngest cousin.”  
  
Cousin Elizabeth’s exp ****ression became more pronounced. “Your letter was ridiculous, and your behaviour when you arrived did not dispel that impression. What was I to think?”  
  
“I was observing you at first. As for the letter, I am guilty as charged, but I had my reasons for not being forthright.”  
  
Mr Collins then hesitated. Sensing that the clergyman may be about to impart some information he would not wish to share with a stranger to the family and seeing that the dancers were lining up again, Mr Darcy turned towards Miss Lucas and applied to her for the next set. They soon took their place on the floor, leaving the cousins to their conversation. Collins quickly explained to Elizabeth that, not knowing what to expect from her father, he had thought it safer to act as he had done with his patroness. She smiled.  
  
“I believe Papa was amused. Did it take him long to discern the truth?”  
  
“Less than a day. He bid me to tell him who amongst you would see through me first, but I could not say if it were you or Jane.”  
  
“Oh, Jane, definitely,” sighed Elizabeth. “I should listen to her more often. She told me more than once that I judge people too quickly. I thought it was because she would rather see only the good in people, but if you and Charlotte are of the same mind, I might be forced to admit that her advice was well-aimed.”  
  
**Later that night**  
  
Cousin Elizabeth did not seem willing to dwell on her deficiencies; she had soon turned her attention to Cousin Jane and Mr Bingley and looked at them with a smile. Collins left her to her musings and went to dance with his cousin Mary, who proved herself to be a dourer partner than either of her elder sisters or Miss Lucas. He wondered, not for the first time, if the girl had some purpose in life other than thrusting her wisdom at whomever happened to be near.  
  
He sat at supper between Cousin Jane and Miss Lucas and enjoyed the meal a great deal. The food was delicious and the conversation interesting. When their libations were over, there was some talk about hearing music, and Collins wished that Mary, who barely needed any persuasion to display her talents, would choose to exhibit her playing but not her singing. Having heard her at Longbourn, he knew the former to be tolerable if a little pompous and her voice to be too weak to be agreeable. Alas, it was not to be. He looked at her family while she sang. Cousin Jane was talking with Mr Bingley, her younger sisters were whispering with a friend—Miss Lucas’s younger sister. Cousin Mary must have received some encouragement for, when her song was over, she began another one. Mrs Bennet appeared unperturbed by her daughter’s display, but Cousin Elizabeth seemed mortified and was looking beseechingly at her father. A glance at their hosts taught him that if Mr Bingley, still in conversation with Cousin Jane, appeared oblivious of everything but her, his sisters were smirking. Mr Darcy appeared slightly sympathetic, the rest of the company resigned, and Mr Bennet amused.  
  
When Mary had finished her second song, her father said aloud: “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”  
  
Cousin Elizabeth’s embarrassment increased, and Cousin Mary, usually unperceptive, seemed a little disturbed. Others were now applied to play or sing. Someone asked Mr Collins if he played.  
  
“Music is, I have been told, a diversion which is perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. Alas, I can neither play nor sing.”  
  
“La! How do you entertain yourself, then?”  
  
“I mainly read, Cousin. I also care for my gardens. However, when a clergyman cares about his parish and not merely for the income he can gain from it, he has not much free time on his hands. There is more in his week than sermons to write.”  
  
“Or be attentive to his neighbour,” Mr Darcy added sotto voce.  
  
“Quite,” said Collins with a nod and a smile.   
  
At that moment, Mrs Bennet could be heard to half-whisper to Lady Lucas that her husband’s cousin was a remarkably clever, good kind of young man. Collins retreated to a corner and rolled his eyes.   
  
He occupied himself by looking over the crowd and idly wondered if it were possible for his younger cousins and their mother to expose themselves more to ridicule. Cousin Elizabeth, after her earlier outburst, was deporting herself properly and seemed utterly ashamed of her family. Cousin Jane seemed oblivious to it all, which did not bode well for her judgement.   
  
“Or she is highly infatuated with the young man,” he whispered.   
  
“What leads you to that conclusion?” Mr Darcy asked. Collins jumped, for he had thought himself alone. He pulled himself together quickly. Mr Darcy was also looking at Cousin Jane and Mr Bingley.  
  
“Is that not obvious? My cousin is happily ignoring everything that happens around her, though that should make her cringe.” He narrowed his eyes at Cousin Kitty, whose high-pitched giggle could be heard above the music. The girl had visibly had too much to drink. “I hope your friend will not be much distressed by her family’s follies. If he returns her feelings, I would recommend him to settle far away from Hertfordshire once they are married.”  
  
Mr Darcy stiffened. Collins stayed silent and, at length, the other gentleman spoke.  
  
“I sat opposite her mother during supper. She could speak of nothing else than her expectation of a match; indeed, she spoke of it as if it was already a done thing. Bingley is not even courting her!” At this Collins raised an eyebrow but Darcy was not done.   
  
“She boasted to her neighbour about all the advantages the match would give them. Miss Elizabeth, who was on the other side of Lady Lucas, did her best to stop her mother, or at least to make her lessen her voice, but she would have none of it. The poor girl was mortified,” he added in a softer voice. Shaking his head, he continued: “And now you tell me that Miss Bennet is not merely being polite but truly cares for my friend. I cannot see any hint of this.”  
  
Collins nodded. “My cousin is not one who shows her feelings openly, but though I am only a recent acquaintance of hers, I can tell she cares for your friend more than for any other acquaintance. She is discreet, you cannot be faulted for missing the signs. Cousin Jane deflated when we arrived and your friend did not ask for her first dance. During dinner, she could not help glancing at him. She might not love him yet, but I think she is well on her way to do so.”  
  
“Could she not be pushed towards him by her mother?”  
  
“I do not believe so. Mrs Bennet has hopes, of course, but she cannot force her daughter’s preferences. I rather believe her mother’s attitude might lead Cousin Jane to conceal her feelings even more.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“You said it yourself: her mother is planning their wedding while she herself is careful when it comes to expressing her feelings. Your friend has asked neither for her hand nor for a courtship and might never do so. If this is the case, my cousin will be the object of gossip in the neighbourhood for her disappointed hopes. How worse would it be if she was more welcoming and publicly acknowledged she held those hopes? Until he speaks, I doubt she would do more.”   
  
Darcy sighed. “I know not what to do. Her reserve might be excessive, but there is nothing objectionable about Miss Bennet. Regarding her family, though …”  
  
Here he stopped and shot an embarrassed look at Collins, who smiled and waved his hand.  
  
“I was rather abrupt when speaking about your aunt earlier, you must not fear offending me. I am not blinded by loyalty and years of acquaintance when it comes to my cousins, and apart from Miss Bennet, there is plenty to object to.”  
  
“Miss Elizabeth does not deserve such censure.”  
  
“Have you already forgotten how impertinent and stubborn she was?” Collins asked with a smirk. Darcy merely shrugged. Collins shook his head and stifled a laugh.  
  
“I have known Mr Bingley for some years,” Darcy said at last. “I have often seen him in love and knew he admired Miss Bennet more than any of the other ladies of the neighbourhood, but it is only this evening that I realised he might be seriously attached to her. I have never witnessed him so attached to a lady.”  
  
“I hope it will last. She might not know the depth of her feelings yet, but I would wager her heart has been touched.”  
  
Mr Darcy appeared thoughtful and said no more. Collins left him to his thoughts and went to join Cousin Elizabeth and Miss Lucas. There were enough officers to answer the wishes of young ladies in want of a partner, and Collins decided not to dance anymore this evening, spending his time in conversation with Cousin Elizabeth and Miss Lucas instead as well as, occasionally, Mr Darcy. That gentleman was often standing near them, quite disengaged, but only came near enough to speak when the ladies were dancing.  
  
He was otherwise looking at Mr Bingley and Cousin Jane, and at length, this reminded Collins of another alliance he had heard gossip about. Near the end of the evening, he quietly asked Darcy about the rumour of his betrothal with Miss de Bourgh. Darcy started, seemed to consider the propriety of discussing an obviously private matter with a near stranger, and eventually spoke.  
  
“This was, I have been told, a wish our mothers made over our cradles. There has never been more to that. I had entertained, long ago, the idea of complying with it someday, but my cousin’s ill health has put an end to it. Lady Catherine, though, still wishes for the match.”  
  
“Do you have an idea of her daughter’s feelings on the subject?”  
  
“I imagine they mirror mine, but I do not actually know. When I visit my aunt, I take care to have as little interaction with her as possible.”  
  
Collins nodded.   
  
“I did not ask you that merely out of curiosity. I imagine that you will marry someday, and that day, your aunt will be distressed and your cousin as well, be it because of her feelings on the matter or because of her mother’s mood. This may also have consequences for the tenants and villagers. As the local clergyman, I shall be in a position to provide some guidance or restore equilibrium—and I would rather be forewarned than taken by surprise.”  
  
“Be assured,” answered Darcy drily, “that when I decide to take a bride, I shall write to you and my aunt both.”  
  
Collins murmured his thanks. Not much of consequence was said until the end of the ball which the Bennets were the last to depart. Mr Collins did not know exactly what happened, but they had to wait a quarter of an hour after the guests had departed before their carriages were brought forth. Mrs Bennet’s satisfied air hinted at some scheme on her part. Amongst their hosts, only Mr Bingley did not seem to mind the delay, for it allowed him to speak with Cousin Jane as they stood a little apart from the others. His sisters seemed impatient to have the house to themselves again and only spoke to complain of fatigue, as did Cousin Lydia in a much less ladylike fashion. Mrs Bennet spoke at length of her hopes of seeing the Netherfield party soon at Longbourn and drew Mr Bingley from his conversation with her daughter in order to assure him he would be welcomed for a family dinner at any time he wished. The young man claimed to be pleased by the invitation and promised to wait on her soon after he came back from London. He explained he had to go there for a few days and would leave on the morrow. Bingley went back to Cousin Jane’s smiles while Mrs Bennet endeavoured to have some more conversation but found no willing partner.  
  
When they at last left the house, Mrs Bennet’s delight was evident. Collins thought at first that her matrimonial scheme involving her eldest daughter was its cause, but with the looks she directed between him and Cousin Elizabeth, it soon dawned on him that she still had another alliance in mind. Until then, he had quite forgotten that she hoped to match him with her daughter. He should think again about that scheme. True, he had known the young lady for barely more than a week, but he had been in her company enough to have a fair idea of her disposition.   
  
**Longbourn, Wednesday morning**  
  
Mrs Bennet looked at Collins expectantly when he came down for breakfast, but he offered her nothing beyond the usual civilities. His hostess seemed bent on engineering a way to leave him and Cousin Elizabeth by themselves. He thought his cousin, though she would not object to him, was nonetheless wary of her mother’s plans; he himself was by no way certain it was in the best interest of both their happinesses to reach an understanding, especially when he remembered her outburst of the previous night. His leave was coming to an end, and though he felt confident Lady Catherine would have no objection if he decided to extend his stay, he needed to go back to his parishioners.  
  
Mrs Bennet’s schemes were put to rest when the Lucases came to discuss the ball with his cousins, as he learned was their wont after an evening of dancing. Cousin Elizabeth suggested that they take a turn in the gardens; the younger girls protested against it, but Miss Lucas and Cousin Jane seemed pleased with the proposal. When Collins declared he would join them, Mrs Bennet shooed them out, loudly whispering to her eldest daughter to keep Miss Lucas occupied. He shook his head; the young people gathered their coats and were soon walking in the gardens. Cousin Jane, it seemed, merely wished to bask in her recollections of the ball and was content to go to a bench and sit in the sun. Collins offered his arms to Miss Lucas and Cousin Elizabeth, and the three of them went down the pathways, discussing both the past evening and the possibility of a match between Cousin Jane and Mr Bingley. Such a discussion allowed him to discern the thoughts of his companions regarding matrimonial harmony, and he was pleased to find some sameness of mind in what he heard. His mind was soon fixed, and as the conversation drifted to lace and ribbons, it wandered to his parsonage’s drawing room, where he pictured the future Mrs Collins. His conscience was moreover satisfied that, when he took possession of Longbourn, his cousins would always be welcomed to stay in their childhood home. The only difficulty he foresaw was that, in the case of his cousin predeceasing her, Mrs Bennet would have to adjust to her authority being transferred to his wife, and he could not see that going peacefully. However, his cousin Bennet was healthy, and this event was certainly some time in the future. He still had to propose and would do so after having slept one or two nights on his decision, but he felt confident that, though their acquaintance was slight, the lady would answer in the affirmative. 


	3. Part 3

**Longbourn, Friday morning**  
  
Collins had come back from Lucas Lodge, where he had also spent most of the previous day in earnest discussion with Miss Lucas. He sat at the breakfast table under Mrs Bennet’s glare. She had a few of those glares for Cousin Elizabeth also, who appeared resigned. The younger girls were as they ever were, and their father observed the scene with a smile. Thinking it would do no good to keep his news silent, he took advantage of a lull in the conversation—a rare occurrence at Longbourn, as he had quickly learned—to share his tidings.  
  
“Cousins, I do not think this will surprise you much, but I believe I owe you the civility of telling you this in advance of the rest of the neighbourhood. Miss Lucas has done me the honour of accepting my offer of marriage.”  
  
Mrs Bennet took the news harder than he had predicted and was so rude in her resentment towards Miss Lucas that Collins threatened her to throw her in the hedgerows the minute he came into his inheritance if she did not stop abusing his betrothed. He was not proud of that, but it _did_ silence her. At that point, Mr Bennet retreated to his study with a pat on his shoulder and a whispered: “Well done, Cousin.”  
  
Though Cousin Elizabeth wished him and Miss Lucas well, he thought he could discern some disappointment in her countenance. He did not think she realised how little they were suited. Her wit was more fitted to the drawing rooms than the rectory, and though she had a good heart, she lacked wisdom yet. He wondered, once again, at the interest Mr Darcy seemed to have for her. His thoughts returned to Miss Lucas. He was not in love with her, nor she with him, but he was confident they would be happy together and congratulated himself on having found a partner whose outlook on life was similar to his, who could be a real partner in his clerical mission. _And_ he would not need to hire a cook.  
  
Mrs Bennet had found her voice again and was now bemoaning the fact that Netherfield had been closed and Mr Bingley extended his stay in London.   
  
Collins had discussed first with Miss Lucas and again with Cousin Elizabeth the note Cousin Jane had received from Miss Bingley on Thursday. His cousin feared Mr Bingley’s sisters and his friend would succeed in holding him back in London, the former because they expected him to find a better-connected bride than Cousin Jane, the latter because of the uncouth attitude of their family, and perhaps also because he wished Bingley to marry his own sister.  
  
“No matter what they say,” said Collins, “it is Mr Bingley’s choice to make. If he were to decide against returning because of the persuasion of his sisters and his friend, that would not reflect well on him.”  
  
At that moment Cousin Elizabeth had grimaced and confessed that she had had a similar discussion with Mr Darcy while nursing Cousin Jane at Netherfield, a couple of days before his own arrival at Longbourn. Reportedly, the gentleman had argued against changing one’s mind in a similar situation while Cousin Elizabeth had held the opposite side and was coming to the chagrined realisation that there had been some merit in Mr Darcy’s position.   
  
“It is good to see you less acrimonious when it comes to that gentleman, Cousin.” That earned him a glare.  
  
“If it is any consolation,” he continued, “he himself had the occasion to rethink his conclusions that evening.”  
  
“What can you mean by that, Cousin?”  
  
“It is relevant to our previous discussion. He mistook Cousin Jane’s reserve for indifference, and I did share my observations regarding her character. He appeared to take them into consideration. Whether he will try to hold Mr Bingley back is, in my opinion, linked to whether he thinks having Cousin Jane’s affections is worth gaining a set of embarrassing relatives.”  
  
Elizabeth cringed. “He _will_ hold him back.”  
  
“Perhaps he will,” said Collins with a shrug. “But I also believe he will not withhold any information; he will tell Mr Bingley all the evil he thinks of the match but also that I told him she was falling in love with him.”  
  
“You told him _that_? How did you—” Cousin Elizabeth, bewildered, shook her head. “How can you feel confident that he will not hide this to Mr Bingley?”  
  
“You are not the only one who studies character in that family, Cousin. I simply do not draw a conclusion after one mere evening in company.” She had the decency to appear embarrassed. “Keep in mind, though, that the knowledge of your sister’s feelings might not be enough for Mr Bingley to come back to Hertfordshire. Once he is away from her, the memory of her charms might lose its strength in comparison to that of her family’s failings.”  
  
At that Cousin Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged—the day ended on a melancholy note.  
  
**Lady Catherine’s town house in London, Saturday, December 21 st **  
  
Collins was resting on his bed, thinking of his second stay in Hertfordshire and anticipating the journey that would take him back to Hunsford on Monday. Lady Catherine had insisted that he must lodge at her house whenever he was to be in London, declaring that it would not reflect well on her if it became known she let her parson reside in a comfortless hotel. The room must be the least agreeable guest room of the house, but it was indeed still far superior to the accommodations he would have secured by himself, thus he felt content with the arrangement. His gratitude extended to completing a table of whist or quadrille when Her Ladyship was also in residence, as was the case now. She had planned to spend a sennight in Town before Christmas to visit her brother and, on learning her parson was to depart when she did, had insisted that he travelled with her. He had wished to be back in Kent for Sunday services, but Her Ladyship had decreed he would also travel with her on his way back and that the parish could do with a sermon from a visiting clergyman that Sunday. Deciding that opposing her would not be worth the aggravation, Collins had agreed to change his plans.  
  
Before they undertook the outward journey, he had imagined she wished for some company during the ride, for her daughter was to stay at Rosings with her companion. He had expected either cold silence or a litany of recommendations during the journey, but to his surprise, it was neither. Her Ladyship had been grudgingly polite, enquiring after his bride: what sort of person she was, who were her parents, her aunts and uncles, and whether they had already set a date for the wedding. Quite a number of suggestions were made, but none that annoyed Collins too much. He expected the return journey to be mostly the same, except that he would have more answers to give her since the week had been full of discussions with the Lucases. Charlotte did not wish to wait too long before they were married; it had been decided that the reading of the banns would begin the Sunday after Christmas, and the wedding would take place in January.  
  
Lady Catherine had invited her brother and nephews for tea that day and had prevailed upon Collins to attend. He might not have been thrilled by this had it not allowed him to meet Mr Darcy again, for he wished to speak with him about a couple of things that had arisen while he was in Hertfordshire. The first was Mr Bingley’s prolonged absence and the other Mr Wickham’s campaign against Darcy.  
  
None of those matters was suitable for a public discussion, and in any case, Mr Darcy was nigh on monopolised by his hostess. Collins nevertheless managed to make Mr Darcy understand that he had something to impart to him. As they had neither enough time nor privacy to discuss freely, Mr Darcy suggested that Collins joined him at his house on the morrow. Lady Catherine had been most seriously displeased on hearing this and, once her family had left, had complained in considerable detail on seeing that the distinction of rank was so little preserved between her parson and her nephew.   
  
**Darcy’s house in London, Sunday morning**  
  
When services were over, Collins went directly to Darcy’s house, where the gentlemen were to break their fast together. Once they were seated and served, the footmen retreated, and the discussion veered towards Hertfordshire. Collins wished to ask Darcy about Bingley and Wickham, while Darcy wished to know what had brought him in that part of the country in the first place.   
  
“Do you often visit your Bennet cousins?”  
  
“Not at all, sir. I hadn’t even met them until this autumn. I had been of a mind to heal the breach that existed in the family, and your aunt pushed me to do so earlier than I had thought.”  
  
“Did she?” Darcy asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
“Yes. On learning that my cousin had five daughters, she sent me to Longbourn in order to find a bride amongst them. I admit I agreed mainly in order to have some respite from her, and I suspect her motivation was similar. In the end, I indeed found a bride.”  
  
“Did you? May I offer you my congratulations?” Mr Darcy seemed ill at ease, and Collins wondered if the gentleman might have assumed his bride to be Cousin Eliza. Collins surmised that if one could not marry a young lady—and surely she and Mr Darcy moved in too different circles for him to envisage an alliance with her—one would rather not meet her every year when visiting one’s aunt. Since it was a Sunday afternoon, and there was nothing else to do, he decided to have a bit of harmless fun.  
  
“Thank you sir; though I shall not delude myself into thinking that the arrangement is something else than a partnership agreement, I believe the lady was well pleased with my attentions. I had a fair idea of what I wanted in a wife, and I had not known her long before I knew she was to be the companion of my future life.”  
  
“No less.”  
  
“I imagine you think me foolish for having determined this after only a few conversations. But she and I were of the same mind about a great deal of matters, and as I told you before, this was not a romantic arrangement, though I trust that affection will grow between us.”  
  
Mr Darcy said nothing, played with his eggs, and looked blankly at his toast.  
  
“She is well-read and takes great care of her sisters.”  
  
“Really,” said Mr Darcy faintly.  
  
“Yes,” said Mr Collins, looking at him stealthily in order to time his reply perfectly. “Charlotte truly is a treasure.”  
  
Confusion ensued, for tea went down the wrong way.  
  
“ _Charlotte Lucas_?” Mr Darcy said when he could breathe again; there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “I had thought your intentions lay in another direction.”   
  
“Cousin Eliza? She had a lot to do with the match. It is because she introduced us and told me what she knew of Miss Lucas's character that I knew we would suit. Miss Lucas's reaction to my cousin’s outburst the night of the ball also helped.”  
  
“Charlotte Lucas. Mrs Bennet must be disappointed.”  
  
“This, sir, is an understatement.”  
  
The gentlemen shared a smirk before Darcy renewed his congratulations, this time more sincerely, and went on.   
  
“Before you share the information you thought I had to know, would you please tell me if all is truly well with your cousins? You told me yesterday that it was mostly so; given the company, I did not push further, but I should be grateful if you could elaborate. I cannot believe that all is calm given the circumstances.”  
  
“I doubt that descriptive would apply even at the best of times, but there is nothing dreadful, really. Mrs Bennet is deeply unhappy with me for not having offered for one of her daughters, though my young cousins do not seem to care much. I had thought that, on this visit, things would have improved, but Cousin Jane has received another note from Miss Bingley while I was at Longbourn—”  
  
“ _Another_ note?”  
  
“Yes, the first one was received just before I left; Miss Bingley took leave of her _dear friend_ Jane with very pretty words, but I doubt her feelings were equally so. Anyway, that second letter rekindled Mrs Bennet’s hostility towards me. She did not voice her discontent directly to me, though, and was never less than civil towards Miss Lucas.”  
  
“I wonder what could have been in that letter,” said Mr Darcy as he sipped his tea.  
  
“That I can answer, for my cousin’s wife took hold of the letter before Cousin Jane could put it away. Miss Bingley, amidst flowery words”— _I should take notes while they are still fresh in my memory, they could come in handy for my dealings with Lady Catherine_ —“informed her _dear friend_ that none of the Netherfield party would set foot in Hertfordshire again for the winter, if ever, and hinted at a planned alliance between her brother and your sister.”  
  
At that point, Mr Darcy must have congratulated himself in his wariness while drinking tea, for the hand that held his cup had halted in time. His sips had also been smaller if Collins was any judge. He smirked before he continued.  
  
“Anyway, while Cousin Jane is melancholy, Cousin Eliza is indignant on her behalf. She is deeply unhappy with Mr Bingley’s lack of steadfastness and has also ranted about his sisters. I did bring forth your name,” he said with another smirk, “but she merely shrugged and stated that she could not begrudge you for giving your friend an objective warning about the evils of being associated with her family—her words, not mine. It seems my cousin is gaining some wisdom.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“She is not as blind to her family’s faults as she was. Now, I also wished to warn you that Mr Wickham’s claims of mistreatment at your hand have become known to the neighbourhood. I know it is not Cousin Eliza’s doing since I heard her express doubt more than once regarding the veracity of the tales. Nevertheless, your attitude while in Meryton made it easy for the locals to trust the word of a charming militia officer over yours.”  
  
Darcy scowled. “ _What_ did he say?”  
  
“Some pretty story about you being the evil son who denied a favoured godson the living he ought to have had. He told it to Cousin Eliza before the Netherfield ball, this is what she accused you of. She believed the story then but has begun questioning Mr Wickham’s motives on realising he shared the tale with quite a number of persons when he previously told her he considered it his moral duty to keep quiet.”  
  
“I imagine you would like to hear the whole story?” Darcy said with a sigh.  
  
“I am as curious as anyone, but I do not need to hear your side of the story to know that the man is not to be trusted.”   
  
“Still, I want you to know that the man not only did not want to take orders and refused the living but also was compensated accordingly. Moreover, he is not to be trusted with the ladies, whether they have a fortune or not.”  
  
“I see. And if I were to write this in, say, a letter to Miss Lucas, it would not be a bad thing?” On seeing Darcy hesitating, he added: “I could imply I had the information from Lady Catherine.”  
  
Darcy nodded, apparently relieved, and Collins wondered what kind of retribution he feared.  
  
“Why Miss Lucas and not your Mr Bennet?”  
  
“Because I may have known him for barely above one month, but I can clearly see that the man does not care about anyone but himself and is as likely to treat the information as a joke as not.”  
  
“How could it be? The man has five daughters. Has he no care for them?”  
  
Collins could only shrug.  
  
“I fear he would think they would only risk a broken heart, and he _would_ joke about such a thing. He did so at Cousin Jane’s expense.”  
  
“You told me that Bingley has not come back.”  
  
“Did you not know that already?”  
  
Darcy shook his head. “Before we followed him to London, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst endeavoured to persuade me to join in their attempt to, as they put it, make their brother see reason. They thought Miss Bennet would not be a good match for him. I agreed to give him my honest opinion but have not seen him since we came back. I had some business matters that called for my attention, and when I called at Hurst’s house, Bingley was out. I had thought he was back to Netherfield. Is Miss Bennet truly heartbroken?”  
  
“It appears she is. Miss Lucas and Cousin Eliza, who know her best, certainly think so.”  
  
“Then I shall endeavour to meet him sometime next week in order to discern his feelings.” Darcy sighed. “For your cousin’s sake, I hope they are constant. His interest usually wanes after a couple weeks away from a young lady who has taken his fancy.”  
  
Collins nodded. “Thank you, sir. Maybe I overstep my position, but with my cousin being what he is …”  
  
“I take no offence,” Darcy answered when Collins trailed off. “I would probably be as attentive to my cousin’s prospects if her mother was not likely to interpret that as the proof of an imminent betrothal.”  
  
“I should have thought her to be more subtle than that.”  
  
“Ha. That is because I am careful to not let slip anything about which to speculate. I shudder at the thought of her possible reaction when I tell her of my marriage with a lady other than Anne.”  
  
“Are you courting a young lady? I am surprised you managed to keep it a secret from your aunt. Unless this is a fairly recent occurring?”  
  
“No, I … I have not asked the young lady for anything yet. However, the more time passes, the less I think I could do without her. She does not have the best connexions nor any fortune at all, but she has most of the qualities I had hoped to find in a wife.”   
  
“Still, you hesitate to formally court her because your family would disagree with your choice,” Collins guessed as Darcy nodded. “Lady Catherine, in particular, would be displeased.”  
  
“Most seriously,” sighed Darcy, “though this would be the case whomever the young lady was, as long as she was not Miss de Bourgh. Even so, I have no wish to alienate my aunt.”  
  
“Have you thought about presenting the situation in such a way that, in the end, she would believe it was her idea all along—or at least could pretend that it was so?”  
  
“Disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.”  
  
“Even at the price of a familial rift?” Collins saw hesitation on Darcy’s face and went on. “I hope you will not mind if I suggest a way of doing things that would help. You do usually go to Rosings around Easter if I recall what was said yesterday but have not committed yet for this spring. I am quite confident that Lady Catherine would rather have you bring a friend with you than forsake the visit altogether. So, are you friendly enough with a male relative of the lady to invite him to Rosings for Easter and bring the young lady along?”  
  
Darcy did not answer but looked at Collins intently. The clergyman developed his idea. “Lady Catherine would have the opportunity to get to know the lady of your choice before being prejudiced against her and, once you put her before the accomplished fact, will rather accept your choice than risk losing face.”  
  
“The idea has some merit, but keep in mind that I have yet to ask the young lady and receive her answer, even if I doubt she would reject me. Moreover, she is not in Town yet.”  
  
Collins shrugged. “You can always conduct the entirety of your courtship at Rosings, or once you see her there, change your mind. This is why I asked you if you were friendly with her relatives. If nothing comes out of it, it would be better if there is no perceived slight.”  
  
At this Darcy sighed heavily. “I am not exactly on friendly terms with her father. And she has only sisters. Unless …”  
  
He was now looking expectantly at Collins, who looked back at him in wonder. Realisation dawned.  
  
“You cannot mean Cousin Eliza?”   
  
Darcy nodded, and Collins refrained from staring. He had noticed that Darcy seemed attracted to his impertinent cousin but had not thought it could result in a proposal. It seemed he was wrong: so much the better for her—and himself.  
  
“Her Ladyship’s face on learning we were to be related by marriage would be a sight to behold,” mused Collins. Darcy stifled a laugh before answering him.  
  
“You can see how impossible it would be to engineer a way to have Miss Elizabeth Bennet reside at Rosings for a few weeks.”  
  
“Not at Rosings, but at Hunsford.” Collins's voice took on a calculating tone. “Miss Lucas talked to me about inviting Cousin Eliza to Hunsford. It can easily be arranged to have her visiting before you arrive. Lady Catherine might like her, and you will have the opportunity to court her … Believe me, though she is not as hostile towards you as she once was, I doubt she will agree to marry you if you are not able to present yourself in a favourable light.”  
  
A curious glance from Darcy elicited from Collins: “She did not like you when you were in Hertfordshire. Now,” he continued on seeing him frowning fleetingly, “I also think she doesn’t know you; this difficulty could be easily resolved should you give yourself the trouble to make it so.”  
  
**Later in Kent**  
  
The plan had gone off without a hitch. When Mr Darcy came to visit his aunt at Easter, Cousin Eliza had been at Hunsford for two weeks already. Lady Catherine had deemed her a pretty, well-mannered young lady; though her opinions were said too strongly for someone as inexperienced as her. Her Ladyship declared herself horrified by the fact she had had no governess overseeing her education. She also was put out when she realised that her nephew was already known to the parsonage party since it would deprive her of the pleasure to make the introduction in a way she found proper. After an initial visit to the Collinses and their guests, Mr Darcy was not seen much during the Holy Week, though they did see his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Collins had wondered whether it meant Darcy had changed his mind regarding Cousin Eliza. When they were ordered to Rosings for tea on Sunday, Collins had determined to observe the young people.  
  
Darcy had seemed as attracted as ever and Elizabeth not as opposed to him, which did not mean much given from where she had started. In any case, the drawing rooms of Lady Catherine were not conducive to conversation.  
  
The following week confirmed this impression. While Darcy was always formal whenever his aunt could observe him, he was more approachable in the drawing room of the rectory. The servants had informed their master that the young man had visited a number of times and had been alone with Cousin Eliza on at least one occasion. Elizabeth also often walked in the park, and Collins thought it was no coincidence that Darcy, according to the gossip from Rosings’ servants, did the same. The lanes of Rosings Park must be more suited to a courtship than its drawing rooms, for by the end of Mr Darcy’s visit, which he had extended by one week, the couple arrived in his study, asking for his blessing before Mr Bennet could give it. Cousin Eliza seemed to fear that her father would be surprised by the match, but Collins assured her that his cousin would be expecting such news since he had been in correspondence with him, sharing, amongst tales of Lady Catherine’s foolishness, his impressions of his daughter and her suitor. Upon the whole, he was much pleased with him, and so was Mr Bennet.  
  
When Darcy rode to Longbourn to ask for the gentleman’s consent and blessings for their marriage, he had no reason to be dissatisfied with his reception. Mr Bennet treated him with the utmost civility and went as far as to say he was so well convinced of his daughter’s discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was a very handsome thought, but the younger man had the distinct impression that his future father-in-law and his cousin had enjoyed a joke at his expense.   
  
**Subsequently**  
  
Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley married Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn soon after she came home from Kent. The ——shire militia had left for Brighton a couple of days before that event, but the neighbourhood did not bemoan that fact as much as it would have had Mr Bingley not come back to Netherfield for the wedding. That gentleman planned to stay the summer, which he spent courting Miss Bennet at Longbourn; they married before his lease of Netherfield ended. Mr Bingley did not renew it, however, and found a residence closer to that of his wife’s favourite sister.   
  
The only one who had been disappointed by the officers’ departure was Lydia Bennet, since she had been invited to go to Brighton by the wife of their Colonel, who was her particular friend, and been denied by her mother who thought that the sister of Mrs Darcy could do better than marrying a Captain or even a Colonel and that her favourite daughter must surely be destined to become a Lady. Lydia’s displeasure lasted until Mr and Mrs Gardiner offered to take her with them for the trip they were about to take in the summer. They were to go to Derbyshire, and being the first of her sisters to see Pemberley was worth losing the opportunity to flirt with countless officers. Of course, Elizabeth would actually be the first of her sisters to see the estate, but Lydia would be the one who would come back with tales to tell.  
  
Mr Wickham disappeared from Brighton leaving a shockingly high amount of debt behind him and was never seen again. Some supposed he had met a bad end at the hands of some brother or father, some said he had gone abroad to seek his fortune. That he could have imbibed too much in one of the local taverns and lost his footing when walking along the pier* when the tide was high was not an explanation that was considered; the same could be said of the hypothesis that he thought it would be uncommonly clever, in order to escape his creditors, to cross the Channel by swimming.   
  
Mr and Mrs Collins stayed in Kent a long time. Lady Catherine was furious when she realised they had a hand in the loss of her nephew as a son-in-law, but she merely ignored them as a result. After a while, feeling lonely since she also had alienated most of her family over the match, she approached them, and they were instrumental in the reconciliation of her ladyship with her sister’s son. The correspondence was frequent between Hunsford and Pemberley, between Charlotte and Elizabeth as much as between Collins and Darcy. The latter two composed long letters full of tetrasyllabic words over the years, much to the amusement of their wives.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This oversight can easily be explained by the fact the first Brighton pier was built in 1823.


End file.
